


Out or In

by Paintthebrain



Series: Love or Volleyball [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, I accidentally wrote this just so I could get the character development just right in the other fic, Sports, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:45:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paintthebrain/pseuds/Paintthebrain
Summary: The sidelines. The most important lines in volleyball. Centimeters make the difference between out and in. A slight miscalculation of the hand and the ball falls just to the left of triumph. A boundary between winning it all and losing everything.Lines are created in life. Lines to follow. Lines to keep others out. Lines are drawn to see if others dare to cross them.Audra Parsons Garcia is the new girl. Lindsay Deboy is the queen bee. When they first meet, the only English Audra knows is what she learned from Grey’s Anatomy. Lindsay really should just ignore her and go about the rest of her charmed Christian life, but she can’t. The older they get, the more the lines blur.Until they're left wondering if they are winning it all or losing everything.





	Out or In

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a more in depth look at the POV of two original secondary characters from my Clexa fic _Touch or Carry._ You can find that story [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7779412/chapters/17745031). 
> 
> I originally wanted to write this in third person in order to match the narrative in the original fic, but it kept turning itself into second person and I figured why fight it?
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 

~-*Audra*-~

You take your place beside your mother as the rest of the congregation bustles around you. You've been uncomfortable in church since you started to grow boobs. You’ve been uncomfortable in church since you started noticing other boobs. But you're even more uncomfortable now. You don't know much English yet, just the bits you picked up here and there from songs and tv shows, despite your great great great (many many great) grandfather being an colonizing Englishman who passed down the name of Parsons in tradition. It's been the eldest child's middle name ever since. Your mother speaks a bit more English than your father, but neither used it very much at home back in the Dominican Republic.

This is home now. This new church. The new school down the block. Everything is new here in Atlanta. New and shiny and much more sturdy than the place you used call home. You miss the frayed volleyball net hanging in the dusty courtyard of your old school.

A choir baton taps a music stand and a hymnal begins. Your father takes his seat on the other side of your mother, your younger sister Lilliana still squirming a little. A few other stragglers find seats. Your name is Audra Parsons-Garcia and you are about to hunker down for a sermon you don't understand when a lanky blonde about the same age as you, walks down the aisle in three long strides. She takes a seat at the front. And you can't take her eyes off her for the entire sermon.

 

~-*Lindsay*-~

You press the small bell to the candle watching the flame extinguish. You continue behind the congregation as they all file out single file to congratulate your father on another beautiful mass. You get to the second to last row and pause as it is still occupied. A gentleman holds a sleeping girl in his arms and a woman fusses with an older girl, probably about 15 years old.  You’ve never seen any of them before.

"Hello, you must be new here. I'm Lindsay." The gentleman and the woman look around for whoever you might be talking to. The older girl looks down at her hands. You can't see her very well. When they figure out that no one else is around and that you are trying to communicate with them, the woman speaks up. "New yes. Little English."

"Oh." Lindsay says as she moves towards them. Drawn forward. Trying to get a better look at the girl. "Oh! Ok! Espanol?" The word cuts across her tongue like a foreign flavor. One of the few Spanish words she knows that doesn't involve ordering food at Azteca Mexican Grill.

"Si." The man says.

You feel your brows knit together as you figure out the best solution. It hits you in a flurry of silver hair and Cuban cigars. "Hold on. I'll be right back." You hope they understand you as you stomp out to the reception area, your long legs carrying you. You search the crowd of people talking about the sermon for a fedora covering silver hair but you already know the man you are looking for is probably outside smoking his infamous cigars.

You push out the door. "Mr. Alvarez." He turns around, pulling the cigar from his mouth.

"Miss Deboy, quite a powerful message your father gave, was it not."

You snort, but try to play it off like it never happened, "yes, I don't think anyone thought about the evils of the internet before today."

That earns her a wizened grin.

"I need your help, sir. There is a new family inside. They don't speak much English. I was hoping you could greet them and tell them they are welcome here."

"Of course my dear" His all white guayabera shirt wrinkles as he leans toward the sidewalk and extinguishes his cigar. "Lead the way."

* * *

 

They've vanished by the time you and Mr. Alvarez have returned. He checks under the pew as if that is the most obvious place they could have gone.

Mr. Alvarez's charming smile puckers into a mask of playful skepticism. "Is this your way of trying to get me to quit smoking after mass again, my little angel?" His tone is but a whisp of serious and the warmness of his thick accent throws all notions of condemnation out the window.

"They were here. I swear."

"Ah yes the immaculate deception I think."

Lindsay snorts again. And does little to hide it this time. He wraps an arm around her shoulder "Maybe next week I'll will meet your imaginary friends."

 

~-*A*-~

This school is going to be the death of you. You swear it. But not too much.

Dios está escuchando.

God is listening.

It's overwhelming. It’s so big and you can't seem to find your way around. Not to mention you haven’t been in school for a year. It grew too expensive and tedious and helping your father grow and sell tomatoes by the road side seemed like the next logical step. Most of the kids in your 8th grade class did the same thing, giving up education to help earn income now. Few people pass all the coocoo bananas requisite exams anyway. Stupid exams the government cooked up to "increase academic excellence". Though you secretly wished you could continue your education. Unbeknownst to you, your father scrimped and saved and now you are here. In this crowded hallway. In America.

You’re used to the crowds though. That helps some. You had 40 kids jammed into your classroom. Navigating through the hallway is easy, figuring out where the hallways goes is the hard part.

You could definitely get used to the air conditioning though.

You spend another minute or two traversing the hallway hoping to find something you recognize. You do not dare ask for help. You wouldn't know what to say or how to say it. You finally see a hallway you recognize and start to turn down it when you’re met with a tall wall of lean lank. Your face presses into a developing chest. You sputter and swear in Spanish as you push hips away with your hands. You chastise yourself for the obscenities and softly say Dios está escuchando to yourself.

 

~-*L*-~

You’re never late to class. You have long legs and an overwhelming need to please adults [that aren’t your father. Though secretly you want his attention more than anything. But whatever]. You are pretty good at hiding it. Even the teachers don't really know that you pathologically need their approval. Most people would probably call you nonchalant and fearless and enthusiastic about things better left on the apathetic list. Some would call you a bitch, but never to your face. You are Lindsay Deboy. You push along the hallway at a good clip. Using a stomp you perfected in your tween years. It says I belong.

You hear Travis call your name in the hallway. He thinks he belongs to you. But you haven't decided yet. He's not exactly the kind of guy good Christian girls go for, which is exactly why you keep him under your spell. Just in case Father Dad needs a little wake up call. Travis is exactly the kind of guy that would infuriate him. That and at 15 Travis is one of the few guys as tall as you. He gives you a wink as he saddles up beside you and matches you stride for stride. You play into his little game with an eye catching flip of your hair. His face goes blank before widening into an auspicious curl.

You let him take your hand as you pass a teacher putting up St. Patrick’s Day decorations.

You are about 3 of your paces away from your classroom, one last corner to navigate before you reach Anatomy when Travis pulls you in faster than a fly on food. You unintentionally duck under his advances leaving him to do an awkward pushup against that wall. You waggle a finger at him. "No no Travis." You turn away into the open corridor with just enough of your mystique intact when a body slams into you.

This person is attached to you like one half of a closed zipper. And you’re not sure what catches you by surprise more, your new appendage or the fact that you can hear a snicker beside you. Travis is laughing at your predicament. No one laughs at you. Not since seventh grade. When you were tiny and not as menacing. And more apt to wear your heart on your sleeve. You give him one glare and he shuts up for the time being. Your new appendage is pushing away from you. You don't recognize her, but when she starts to sputter in Spanish you instantly flashback to Sunday. It's the girl. You’re sure of it. You feel her hands on your hips and something ignites. Travis is watching with keen eyes and you try to forget about that smoldering that just hit you for the sake of appearances. "Are you ok?" You say, but you don't think she hears you.

Travis moves forward like a militant front. Standing beside you, "what don't you speak English? Fucking paperless parasite.”

She whispers something. You're pretty sure it's profound, but you have no way of knowing for sure.

You think Travis is a little more ensconced than necessary, as he throws a few more barbs. The girl wells up and you reach for her. She pulls away and ducks into a class as the bell rings.

You were always on the fence about Travis but you decide right then that your daddy issues are less important than this new girl.

~-*A*-~

This isn't your class. This is definitely not your class. The words on the board are all long. You don't think you've ever seen that many consonants and vowels in one place. One word looks familiar to you, because of that tv show with all the doctors that sleep with each other and by the amount of bad things that happen to them your pretty sure they live in a hellmouth. And there is one doctor on there, Calliope Torez, that makes you feel like you belong in a hellmouth.

ANATOMY

You see the graphic depiction of a heavily dissected frog and you’re instantly turning for the door.

You decide resolutely that you don't need high school after all. You’re going to check the hallway and then walk right out the front door.

Just as you're about to reach the sanctity of the hallway you find yourself nose deep in those same breasts again.

If god is listening, he must find this fucking hilarious.

 

~-*L*-~

You didn't notice which class she walked into because you were too busy dumping Travis for his antics. If your father didn't raise you on grape nut flakes and a large helping of "turn the other cheek" you would have punched Travis square in his shapely jaw.

Great now you're late.

You're wishing Travis would "turn the other cheek" right into your fist. You let him scamper off as you move with purpose to your class.

You walk through the door hoping that your hours of shameless brownnosing will allow you one teeny tardy tarnish on your record. You prepare your excuse like Father Dad prepares his sermon. Ready to enraptured all who listen.

Suddenly there's that smoldering sensation again.

And you're met with another solid impact. It's the girl again. And despite your contempt for Father Dad, faith is important to you. You believe in these things. These stacked coincidences. But before you can decide to act on it, the girl bounces off of you and into a table knocking over a medical heart sculpture. It's pieces scattering all over the room.

You feel collective heads turn toward the commotion and you are torn between chasing after this new meteor in your life and saving face. It's a tough choice. Because there is just something about her. But in the end, you save your beautiful face.

 

~-*A*-~

The week passes by in a blur of Abercrombie and Fitch. You fear you'll never get the taste of Axe of body spray out of your mouth. But you survived with minimal lacerations. The worst you were called is the mumbo jumbo that boy with the tall girl spouted at you at the beginning of the week.

[You did your best to type ‘paperless parasite’ into Google search in the library. Your spelling was atrocious but you managed it anyway]

You chuckle lowly to yourself when the page is translated into Spanish for you. “Illegally documented” is what it says that boy had said. Which is stupid. Your father made sure you all came here the legal way. And it’s not like you would deserve his contempt even if you didn’t have the papers.  That puta doesn't know what he's talking about. You quickly apologize to God and throw your eyes up to the ceiling so he knows you're talking to him. On your way back down your gaze catches familiar ash-blonde hair. She's looking at you and she's smiling. You feel your nipples do something they've never done before without cold weather or a certain Dr. Calliope Torez dancing across your screen. You shake it off and go back to your googling.

~-*L*-~

 You want to say hello. You want to walk over to her and charm her like you do everybody. But you don't know any Spanish and she doesn't know any English and really you can't just stare at each other. But you're staring anyway.

Maybe it's the challenge. You like challenges. When you joined the volleyball team they said being captain by sophomore year was impossible. But you did. You are. It starts next week. And you are beyond excited.

Great now you are smiling at her. You don't smile. You don't stare. You are never late. You don't know her name and yet you find yourself breaking a few rules for her.

You don't say hello. People say hello to you.

No one knows that secretly you are a jar of marshmallow fluff. You would never actually hurt them or mock them or make them feel any less human.

Unless their name is Travis and they're a douche.

~-*A*-~

The school assigns you a translator midway through the next week. It doesn't do anything to help your assimilation. Mrs. Delancy is middle-aged with a bald spot on one side of her short cropped mane. You figure it migrated to her upper lip. You watch the fine hairs vibrate whenever she translates. There is a particular syncopation that happens when she rolls her r's.

You accept all of her flaws because she's kind and has your best interests at heart. And she’s the only person you can really talk to inside the school. And although you care what people think you don't know anyone enough to actually let it affect you.

Mrs. Delaney gets your attention and tries to regurgitate whatever your math teacher just said.

You find yourself idly watching her lip hairs again as you think of the person you wish you could talk to.

You caught her staring in the library last week.

And then she approached you at the end of mass this past Sunday. She stared at you again for a good ten seconds before saying ‘Hola. Beivenido.’ It caught you off guard. And you walked away without a word.

~-*L*-~

 Your coach is a bit of a shithead. But you go with it since he made you captain. You approach the position like you do most else. Fearlessly.

You can't say as much for your attempts to befriend the new girl. After the library incident you looked up a few basic Spanish phrases.

On Sunday, you were excited to see her back at church. You practiced the phrases you learned in your head. You walked up to her with determination. You were going to say all the lovely things you learned. Hello. Hola. Welcome. Beivenido. I am happy you are here. Estoy feliz de que estas aqui. I want to be friends. Quiero ser tu amigas. For some reason I just want to be close to you.

[You didn't actually learn that one.]

Instead, the nearer you got to her the more all those words slipped away. By the time you pushed your way through the crowd to her, all the words were gone. So you stared. Again.

This close you could see the exact tint of her skin. It makes you think of the post mass pancakes your mother used to take you get at the diner down the street. A deep tan. Perfectly succulent. And her eyes are the color of the syrup you would smother the pancakes in. She has neat braids woven tight to her head and pulled up into a pony tail. You find yourself wishing you learned the word beautiful. That burning occurs again. That low smoldering swoop. Maybe it's hunger. You do love pancakes. Dad won't take you for them anymore.

Somewhere between wishing your mother were still alive and your father was still the man he was when she walked this earth and memorizing the color of this girl’s lips [peach with coral undertones], you sense the awkward. It fills you up because you haven't felt this empty in a really long time. She blinks at you slowly and suddenly you remember two words. They fall quickly and awkwardly.

She blinks once more and then walks quickly away.

Shoot, she probably thought you were making fun of her.

You immediately find Mr. Alvarez. He agrees to tutor you.

You ask him if he likes pancakes. You spent the rest of that day cramming them into your mouth and Spanish words into your head.

You snap back to now as the coach blows the whistle and you jog to the service line to begin conditioning.

The door opens and in walks her.

 

~-*A*-~

You're not sure what you are doing here. Your old school didn't have organized sports. Just whoever wanted to play whatever during recess and after school.

But you mentioned the volleyball team at dinner and your mother and father both agree it would be a good idea.

So you find yourself walking into the gym 20 minutes late. Because you still can't find your way around. And because Mrs. Delaney insisted on accompanying you. You spent 15 looking for her and 5 minutes walking directly here.

She takes you in. Her crocs squeaking on the hard wood floor as she walks you over to the coach. He doesn't smile as she explains your presence. He looks you up and down. You are probably one of the shortest girls here. You're not done growing yet but whatever. He throws a pinnie at you. Calls you a setter whatever that means and points to the line of girls.

The tallest one there is staring at you. But you’re getting used to her gaze. Kinda.

Thankfully your athletic skills don't need translating. Mrs. Delaney is sitting on the bleachers picking at her nails.

Youre sweating. But you feel the most you that you have felt since you left the Dominican Republic.

The coach acknowledges your presence at least.

~-*L*-~

 Practice is wrapping up. And wow. You’re in just a little bit of awe of the new girl’s skills. [to be honest you’ve always been a little bit in awe of her anyway and that’s part of the problem isn’t it?]

 _Be not afraid_. That’s always been your favorite verse from the bible.  _Be not afraid_.

Everyone is making their way out of the gym and she’s hanging back talking to Mrs. Delaney. She’s an interpreter. This is good. Now is your chance. You’ve practiced. And you want to use for fledging abilities. But someone will be there to help you if you mess up. Because god is always with you, but he’s not exactly the most vocal.

_Be not afraid. For I am with you._

_Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you._

_Yes, I will help you._

_I will uphold you with my righteous hand._

_Isiah 41:10_

And whatever He can’t help with Mrs. Delaney can help you muddle through.

Be not afraid.

You grab your bag. And the extra Gatorade you brought for the ride home and head over to the bleachers.

~-*A*-~

She’s coming. You can see it out of your peripheral. Just to the left of Mrs. Delaney’s ill-formed haircut.

You’re not sure how you managed to memorized the tall girl’s hair color in such a short time, but you have. And you know that it is the exact color of honey. Honey on top of Habichuelas con Dulce.  Or honey beaming in the sun. Sweet sweet honey.

She's here. Mrs. Delaney blinks slowly at her for a second before her posture goes rigid. "Ms. Deboy, how can I help you?"

Deboy. The boy. The irony is not lost on you. Because you think you know what you feel. It wouldn't be the first time. But you fight it with all you got.

Deboy's face scrunches up. Tight and contemplative.

God help you. It's the cutest thing you have ever seen.

~-*L*-~

 Now that you are here. You want to be anywhere but here. Aqui.

Mrs. Delaney's challenge has thrown you for a loop. And you're racking your brain. Searching through everything Mr. Alvarez taught you in the last few days. [Every second that wasn't already dedicated to school, volleyball, church, or sleep.]

You still don't know why you are doing this. The challenge yes. And you are very stubborn yes. You are always prone to trying something new. And sticking with it. But deep down you're drawn to her.

Maybe it's because she always looks so afraid. Scared. Like she's one step away from fighting or flighting.

_Be not afraid. I am with you._

"Quiero hablar, por favor, senorita Delaney."

Wow. That went way better than you thought.

"Senorã. You are a senorita. I am a senora."

Well, ok then. So you are not perfect. Damn it.

[Darn it.]

"Yes of course" you reply because well you are definitely not perfect. And you’re prone to defensiveness when you make a mistake. And damn it [Darn it] things are not going the way you planned again. You are supposed to be charming. You are supposed to be cool calm and collected. You suddenly get the feeling that things will never go the way you plan when she is around.

Mrs. Delaney looks at you like you have three heads. Certain that at least one of the heads will start biting. You know your reputation. Stony. Cold. Manipulative.

You are none of those things. But she doesn't know that. She just knows that you look extremely aggravated, but she doesn’t know it has nothing to with anybody but yourself. Mrs. Delaney doesn't actually know anything about you but what you let the world see. Which is not a lot. Teacher's love you. But not all of them. And that's okay.

[It's not okay.]

You blow out a frustrated breath and you’re showing more of your true self to the world than you have in a while. You know that the variable for this is standing in front of you hidden slightly behind Mrs. Delaney.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish"

You just want her to leave.

"I don't. Not really."

"What do you want with Ms. Garcia then?"

"I just told you. I want to speak with her." You know you've probably lost all chance of ever currying Mrs. Delaney favor. And it bugs you. But this is exhausting really.

Mrs. Delaney raises an unmanicured eyebrow at you and turns to the girl. You finally get a good look at her and you’re afloat with a lessening of the intense emotions that were just rushing through you.

A spark hits you at the eye contact and renews your purpose. "I just want to welcome her. I tried at church, but...I didn't know enough Spanish yet."

"You go to church?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

You know that oh. It's the sound of someone realizing they might have misjudged you. That somehow being a church-going Christian makes you exempt from all previous judgements. It’s extremely topsy turvy. But it’s not the first time someone gave you a free pass because of your faith and most particularly who your father is. A part of you is irked. But another part of you is secretly relieved that maybe this adult can still like you. But you'll worry about that later.

Mrs. Delaney turns to the girl and relays most of your conversation. The girl speaks and Mrs. Delaney is gone in a flurry of syllables. And you're left to stare at Ms. Garcia once more.

~-*A*-~

You're shy yes, but you have a little bit of bravery in you. And this girl has tried several times to talk you and all you've done is runaway. So you say "Hello" with the best American you can muster.

The smile that hits the other girl’s lips is blinding. And you know you'll spend another night praying the gay away. But it'll have been worth it just to see that smile.

"Hello. Hola." She says. And you fear you'll never get used to the gravelly timbre of her voice. The way it pokes itself into your ear and gets stuck there. "My name is Lindsay. Mi nombre es Lindsay."

"Mi nombre es Audra." You reply. And you have other questions. And other things you want to say but you're not sure how to ask them. You try. "Espanol. Para mi?"

Her brow does that cute scrunch again. The bleachers squeak on the other side of the gym as Mrs. Delaney adjusts her position.

You do know SOME English. You try to wrap your tongue around bland syllables. "Spanish. Learn for me?"

Her eyebrows shoot up and her face turns a lovely shade of rose. You decide that this is your favorite expression of hers. But you have a feeling there will be more.

She pulls at the back of her neck. "Yea I guess I did."

You don't catch all of it. And she clearly struggles with something until she straightens her spine and looks at you with determination. "Si." The blush spreading further down her neck.

 

~-*L*-~

 

It takes several more interactions for you to become friends. Mrs. Delaney warmed to you and now she politely interjects when you or Audra struggle.

Her English is coming along quite nicely. And so is your Spanish. You quickly realize she's not like any friend you have had before. You find yourself blushing furiously when she's around. You get that heat in your belly.

It's just a coincidence. One of the many stacked coincidences. That make your bond strong.

She's a very talented volleyball player. Something you admire greatly. And if you were ever to have a co-captain. You would want it to be her.

She makes fun of your father's sermons. His bone crushing fire and brimstone philosophy. She's says god would never want any of his people to feel less like people. You whole heartedly agree.

~-*A*-~

It's too late not to have a crush on her really. It was too late the moment you saw her. But she learned Spanish for you and despite the language barrier you finish each other sentences. Sometimes in English and sometimes in Spanish.

She has a tough exterior which you admire, but she's also everything you want in a girl. Sensative, kind, and fearless.

If only you were allowed to want girls.

 

~-*L*-~

The end of the volleyball season comes quickly. Mrs. Delaney waves to you in the hallway. You acknowledge her with a steely nod. But are grateful for her change of heart.

Now that volleyball is over you are saddened by the prospect of only seeing Audra in between classes and at church. You got really used to seeing her after school every day.

As always you find the courage you need and invite her to your special spot on a Saturday.

~-*A*-~

You didn’t know what to expect when Lindsay asked you to hang out outside of school. But sand and volleyball nets was not it.

She waves you over with her long elegant arms. You wonder if you will ever not be transfixed by the sight of her.

You prayed enough times about it.

You're starting to think that maybe god isn't listening.

~-*L*-~

 You play for hours and hours.

Your chemistry on the volleyball team this past season was spoken about in local papers, but here on this dusty court Audra seems so much more at home. You both rise to a whole new level.

You’re so tired but you don't want to part. You invite her to have a sleep over.

~-*A*-~

You know it's a mistake.

You know it's a mistake to be alone with her. You know it's definitely a mistake to be alone with her in her bedroom.

When it's just the two of you sharing your secrets and chemistry. You will fall for her.

It's a mistake.

But you do it anyway.

 

~-*L*-~

 Saturday night sleep overs become a ritual. Your dad never bothers you since he spends most of the evening preparing for the sermon the next day.

You’re closer to her than you’ve ever been to another person. You feel god when you are with her.

Soon your life is about Saturdays and Sundays.

 

~-*A*-~

It's the end of the year and you both make a pact to meet at the sand volleyball court every day during the summer.

Your 15 almost 16 and you are hopelessly in love with your best friend.

* * *

 

For your 16th birthday Lindsay takes you to see a tournament. You are in awe of these powerful women running around the sand setting balls with precision you could only dream about.

You know you'll be dreaming about the bikini's too. But that's beside the point.

 

~-*L*-~

 After the tournament you let Audra in on your plan. To join the beach volleyball junior circuit. You ask her if she wants to be your partner.

You're relieved when she says yes.

You can't imagine a future without her in it.

 

~-*A*-~

Before your first tournament she gives you a little gold cross and helps you put it on. Her fingers slide gently across the back of your neck and linger just a little too long. When you turn around your both breathless.

It's moments like these that make you think maybe she feels the same.

But those moments shatter.

And so does your heart.

 

~-*L*-~

 Tournament season comes and goes and you and Audra do quite well for your first go round.

Pretty soon your both thrown back into high school. Junior years starts up and it's pretty much the same as sophomore year except that you have a beautiful best friend. Your ooey gooey center starts to leak out. Because of her. You let the world start to see more of you. And the general population student body starts to warm to you.

~-*A*-~

When you’re homeroom teacher leaves Garcia off when doing calling attendeance, you don’t correct her. You don’t tell your parents.

The bullying seems to have come to an end. You in fact are more accepted than you realize. She didn’t have to tell you, but you know Lindsay is the reason for that.

~-*L*-~

You're surprised when you're nominated for junior prom court the following March.

You're not surprised when Audra is nominated as well. She's just so special. And you think you know now that is why you approached her in the first place.

~-*A*-~

She holds your hand as they announce the winner. You don't really care who wins. Just that she's holding your hand.

They put a crown on her and she’s swept away from you.

But she finds you like she always does and spends the rest of the night dancing with you. Eyes sparkling like her crown.

You make a pact with God.

He doesn't hear it.

~-*L*-~

 You spend the summer touring with the junior circuit. Audra by your side.

The thing is she's a little different. Ever since junior prom. Distant. But not far. It bugs you.

She makes excuses to not do sleepover Saturdays anymore. On Sundays she still sits next to you in the pew, but there is a healthy amount of space between you.

Distant. But not far.

She still quietly comments on your dad's surly words. And you find yourself craving the moment she leans into whisper.

You want to be close again. But she refuses.

You are starting to think that something has come between you.

~-*A*-~

You put God between you and her. Just enough room for him, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.

It works for the most part.

 

~-*L*-~

 Senior year comes and goes. You and Audra both got into Georgia Tech on volleyball scholarships. It helped that you won states.

Audra wins prom queen this time. You are so happy for her.

But you're quite devastated when she spends the night dancing with someone else.

Travis, having become a less of a douche in the last two years won prom king. They do their one mandatory king and queen dance. As the song ends, you get ready to congratulate her and then dance the night away together, just like last year. But he pulls her in close as the next song begins and they stay that close every song after that.

You spend the rest of the night more jealous than you ever have been.

You convince yourself it's because you want Travis again. Without a thought to the fact that it might be something else.

 

~-*A*-~

You don't mean to pull so far away from her, but you don't really have a choice.

Your tournament season suffers because of it.

Travis takes you on a few dates, but you put a stop to it when he wants to take it further.

Your 18th birthday flashes past you. You forgot because Lindsay always remembers. She didn't say anything this year.

~-*L*-~

Georgia tech is a lot more difficult than you imagined. The faculty is harder to wrap around your finger than the teachers back in high school.

Audra is with you but also not with you. She spends a lot of her free time with a girl she met in her psychology class.

She was your best friend first.

Your beginning to think maybe you weren't just jealous of Travis.

 

~-*A*-~

You're a little surprised when Lindsay confronts you about Allison. Though you shouldn't be. You know your excuses to stay away from Lindsay are flimsy at best.

But you needed space to fall out of love with her.  

It's working sort of. Allison is sweet and sassy. She's Christian and gay too. And you spend a lot of time talking theology. And what God intended when he created women who love women and men who love men.

And when Callie Torrez kisses a Dr. Erika Hahn on Grey’s Anatomy,  you acknowledge to yourself that you want that too.

Allison kisses you after class. And it feels good. It feels right. Not like your one kiss with Travis. But it still doesn't feel like it's enough.

You know the reason for that is standing right in front of you, asking you where you’ve been all semester.

Lindsay looks hurt. Like you betrayed her. But you aren't ready to come out just yet.

You don't stop seeing Allison. Not right away. But eventually Allison starts to feel like it's not enough either and you go your separate ways.

You learn to deal with the hole that will never be filled.

~-*L*-~

 You start to wonder what might be wrong with you. College is full of hot guys. Most of whom fawn over you like they did in high school. But really you just want to hang out with Audra and the girls on the volleyball team.

But mostly just Audra.

There's nothing wrong with that right?

 

~-*A*-~

College flashes by in the blink of an eye. It's the night before graduation and you are both at a party. You both spent most of college avoiding them. To maintain your GPA. To stay fit. Jesus frowns upon debauchery. [Even though the man was turning water into alcohol] But you know mostly it's because you were trying to avoid this exact moment.

The party is loud and wild as they often tend to be. You're just a little bit tipsy. But Lindsay is well beyond that. She pulls you gracelessly into a bedroom to recharge.

You're both drunk. And staring. It's been awhile since you forgotten to speak in English. But te amo falls from your lips.

She looks at them hungrily.

Over the last few years. You've grown certain that Lindsay feels the same way you do.  But she doesn't know that. She doesn't know that what she's feeling is more than friendship. It would never occur to her. Because despite how much she protests that she doesn’t need her father’s approval. You know she does.

But the way she is staring at you makes you think that maybe nothing else matters but you and her.

You want to take this chance. To kiss her and show her how you feel in no uncertain terms.

But Lindsay, ever the brave one takes the chance first.

~-*L*-~

Your mind is muddled and hazy, but as soon as your lips touch hers everything comes into hyper focus.

You’re acutely aware of the peace you feel. The years spent jealous and trying to kiss boys to feel this same kind of euphoria seem to melt away.

You feel God with you. Closer to you than ever before.  He always feels near when she is near yes. Always. But it's different this time. You adjust the angle and leave a lingering peck on her lips. "I love you too. You're my best friend."

You don't notice a little of the light leave her eyes.

~-*A*-~

She never brings it up and you never bring it up. You graduate college and officially start your careers as Olympic beach volleyball players

You don't make it to London. You didn't meet the eligibility requirements to compete in qualifiers due to not competing in enough tournaments last year.

Which is fine. You heard one of the athlete's got seriously injured in the gold medal match.

But you spend the next few years training hard every day. You develop an immunity to her lanky body and honey hair and pouty lips.

With that immunity you can be her friend. For real. No pining.

A little pining. But Lindsay meets someone. Hunter. You hate his name but you can see what she sees in him.

You rekindle your friendship with Allison and you hang out from time to time. Eventually you told her about Lindsay. She smiled at you and told you that it's okay. It's natural.

You start to believe her. She reminds you that God loves all his people. His grace is everywhere. Finding it is not hard.

You have sex with her. You make sure she knows that you have no intention of it being about more than sex.

You and Lindsay haven't had a Saturday Sleepover in years.

But you have them with Allison now. And she has them with Hunter.

~-*L*-~

During February, with qualifying season coming you both buckle down. Hunter doesn't understand it and you lose him.

But Audra comforts you and you both snap right back into place.

You've gotten used to the waxing and waning of your friendship. Because deep down you know she's the moon and you’re the tide and you'll always be pulled to each other.

There's something that you forgotten. You know it's important. It's there at your peripheral. You can almost grasp it.

~-*A*-~

You know you are gay. You know that god is listening. And you decide he never responds because he agrees with you. He is nodding approvingly somewhere. Silently encouraging you to be true to yourself.

You tell Lindsay the next day.

~-*L*-~

You have spent a great deal of time over the last few years making peace with your father.

You're older now. You understand his vitriol a bit more. You forgive him for not forgiving God for taking your mother away.

His words are not of hate, but of anger. And fear. Fear that he dedicated his life to a being that doesn't exist.

You listen to him. Listen to those inceptit words. You take them in. And you make them a part of you. You absorb his pain. You reminisce about your mother. Bit by bit. Every Sunday there is little more love in his sermon. A little more forgiveness in his communion. You start to feel like he finally sees you again.

Audra pulls you aside after training one day in March. She's timid and skittish and she looks like she's one step away from pulling off a very big bandaid.

You assure there is nothing to be afraid of.

She tells you.

Gay. She's gay.

It hits you so hard. Your 16 years old again staring a beautiful girl willing yourself to remember words from a foreign language just to talk to her.

And a thought rockets through your brain: you just got your father back.

Words fall out of your mouth again. Words that are foreign. Because they are words of hate. Your father word's from years ago. Words of condemnation.

You hate yourself when you see the tears in her eyes. But somewhere you know you built up a mask for a reason. You let people believe what they wanted to believe because you didn't want them to actually fill in the gaps.

Because if they ever did, they would see the things you can't. Won't.

You know you're still forgetting something important.

And you know now you're doing it on purpose.

~-*A*-~

It all entropies after that. You carry on hoping your Lindsay will come back to you and not this deviant shell of your best friend. The person you have been in love with for 9 years.

But she doesn't. In fact, she finds more ways to try and make you hate her.

Tournament season starts. You arrive at the Sun and Sand Classic a day early. Orientation day is just a chance to get to know your competition. But your biggest competition, Lexa Woods and Clarke Griffin, won’t be arriving until tomorrow. So you settle for fraternizing for the sake of fraternizing. Lindsay is rigid beside you. But she maintains a bit of that mask she’s had since high school and charms everyone.

Now that you are open about your sexuality with yourself and others you find yourself surrounded by potential new suiters. Mickevicz catches your eye first. And you spend the day shamelessly flirting with her. You sleep with her that night. You walk back to your room in the morning and Lindsay is sitting on the end of her bed.

You think you see tears there in her eyes. But she says something about your sin and you walk away.

~-*L*-~

You don't how you both manage to pull off a win on opening day with a giant pit in your stomach. You don't know why it's there. It just is.

You’re afraid. You’re afraid for her. That's it.  Your afraid maybe your father was right. Homosexuality is a sin. You're afraid she won't be given God's grace at the end of her life.

That has to be it.

But you see her later in the hotel restaurant with that stupid girl Monk-something. And your insides light on fire.

It's not fire and brimstone. It's not hate. It's something else.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

This feeling you have. It's dumb. It's the dumbest stupidest feeling you ever had.

It makes you do dumb and stupid things.

Like stare daggers across a restaurant at your best friend. Like get up and confront her.

But you move to quickly and knock a tray out of the hands of a passing waiter. Great. Now everyone is staring at you.

Everyone but Audra. She's too wrapped up in whatshername to bat an eye at anyone but her.

That's when it hits you. You're losing her. You've been losing her for years. But you might lose her for good this time

You read an article once about what would happen to the tides if there was no moon. Spoiler alert: nothing good.

It softens you. The feeling you feel now. Remorse. Regret. You're going to apologize. Right here. Right now.

But Audra is gone from the booth. She's heading toward the exit.

You reach for her yelling for her to wait. But she pulls from you so quickly the momentum forces you into her. She flies into a table.

What you see in her eyes when she rights herself will stay with you for the rest of your days.

You ready yourself for all the apologies you need to make but when she puts herself between you and monkevicz you feel that stupid feeling flare.

Maybe it is jealousy. Forget.

Suddenly two more people are standing in front of you, Griffin and Woods, and this stupid dumb feeling makes you do more stupid things. More homophobic bullshit comes out of your mouth. Hurtful words. Where is the marshmallow fluff? Where is the person that would never actually hurt anyone?

Woods grabs you by the collar and really you are having an out of body experience. You don't know the person woods is holding by her shirt collar. But it’s not you.

It can't be.

And maybe you forgot a little too much.

Because you don't know who you are anymore.

~-*A*-~

It's almost over. Finals are tomorrow. You manage to make it into them somehow. Despite the turmoil between you two. Lindsay may have been your first love but she's not the only thing you ever loved. Volleyball was your love before her. But right now You don't even want to finish the tournament. You just want to go home.

Monkevicz went home this morning. You stayed the night with her last night after the fight. You almost slept with her again. But you didn't. You just needed a safe haven.

You have no intention of hitting on anyone when you walk back into the restaurant the night before finals. But you see Lexa Woods on the dance floor with her sister and well the flirt just falls out of you. She did stick up for you. And well she’s probably like a demigod birthed from Athena and like Adriana Lima or something.

Next thing you know you are suggestively stroking her bicep with your finger.

And then a beat after that Clarke Griffin is practically pushing you away from Lexa. Whoops. You didn’t know they were a thing.

When they kiss a few minutes later, you nod your head in agreement with the universe pairing these two together, because yea Clarke is probably a demigod too. Aphrodite and… Strike that. Clarke is probably just Aphrodite.

She and Lexa belong together.

They belong together the way you used to think you belonged with Lindsay.

~-*L*-~

She’s packing up her stuff. She’s packing up her stuff quietly and not looking at you. And it burns. It burns like watching her with that stupid girl from psychology, that stupid travis, that stupid mick-vick or however you pronounce her name. It burns because you want her to fight for you. Not with you.

You just won the first tournament of the season. You should be celebrating.

But you know it’s your stupid fault that you’re not.

You pick up a shirt she left draped over the head board of her bed and you place it in her suitcase. She pauses for a moment. That’s when you finally understand why she wasn’t looking at you. She’s crying. She hates to cry. You made her do that.

You touch her shoulder and she leans into it. You wrap her up in a hug. It’s the first hug you’ve had in what feels like years. No barriers. No stupid words. You hold her until she’s stops crying. “I’m sorry.” You say.

She pulls away just enough to see the sincerity in your eyes.

Kiss her. You want to kiss her.

You start. You try.

But instead you pull fully out of the embrace and call her disgusting.

She zips up her suitcase and tells you she can’t do this anymore.

The stupid part of you is relieved.

The rest is watching from the sidelines again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post the second half of this once we're all caught up with the time line in Touch or Carry since the second half contains some spoilers for that.
> 
> So glad you're here!


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